


silent admonition

by gaebolg



Series: bard husbands [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Creampie, Dirty Talk, M/M, No beta yeehaw, Public Sex, the Nourval jealousy fic that we've all needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaebolg/pseuds/gaebolg
Summary: No, he quite likes Guydelot’s intentions. With his heart on his sleeve only for Sanson to adore and safeguard in his own ways.
Relationships: Sanson/Guydelot Thildonnet
Series: bard husbands [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491860
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	silent admonition

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still alive, just barely. Enjoy this work I've had half-way written since December & finally managed to find enough energy to finish it.

“Why did you want to meet alone with me?”

Sanson peers over at Nourval who stands not too far away, merely enough to designate personal space.

“No offense, but Guydelot can prove to be a little…unhelpful at times given his demeanor.”

There’s a frown that shows on Sanson’s features. Yes Guydelot could be a little _mirthful_ at times, but that didn’t make him any less useful. Regardless he goes along with Nourval’s wishes if only to attempt and get the information they’ve been needing.

“Very well, did you find out anything?”

“Not yet. Everyone seems to be very tight-lipped.” Nourval reiterates his efforts have been fruitless, yet Sanson can’t help to doubt him. Something about the man has always had him keeping defenses up since they first met.

“Mm…keep trying then. I’m sure someone will slip up soon.”

Assuming their exchange is basically done, Sanson is about to give a cordial goodbye, only to be stopped short with the way Nourval steps in a little closer to him.

“Sanson, do you really trust Guydelot?”

With Nourval tilting his head in, bangs frame the side of his face, almost eluding to a darker side of himself. Sanson feels a hint of unease creeping up his spine.

“Without question. Why are you asking this?” It takes all Sanson has not to grit out those words in a harsh manner.

“I only say this as a friend…you know how often he enjoys lounging around in bars. Do you really think he takes this seriously, or better yet…takes _you_ seriously?”

Calling Guydelot’s devotion into question in more than one respect is enough to piss Sanson off. He grips his hand into a fist, the ring on his finger embedding into his skin as he tries not to lose composure.

“You’re _mistaken_.”

“Hmm.” Leaning his head back, Nourval raises a hand to his chin as if lost in thought, only to speak again in a light-hearted tone that does nothing to derail the tension he’s knowingly created. “I don’t know the extent of your relationship with him, but if you ever realize the truth of what I’m saying, you’re free to come find me.”

With nothing else to be said, the elezen turns and heads off further into Castrum Oriens.

Completely vexed from such a conversation, Sanson turns on his heel to try and find a quiet spot to calm down. When he manages to pass the aetheryte and sees a tree further off that is by its lonesome without a soul in sight, he finds that to be the best option.

Although the moment he turns to walk between the buildings leading to it, he’s grabbed by the arm, and pulled behind the building across from his original destination.

“What did that prick want?”

Sanson looks up to see it’s Guydelot. His jaw is clenched, body rigid as he’s clearly worked up.

“The usual disappointment.” Crossing his arms, Sanson attempts to dissuade some of the agitation already present, but Guydelot is having none of it.

“He was too close to you. Does he think I’m _blind_?”

For a moment Sanson considers how Nourval probably wanted to put a rift between himself and Guydelot. Although the opposite seems to be occurring given Nourval is unaware of just how close the two of them are. He seems to suspect a relationship though because why else would he dare insinuate what he did?

“That godforsaken whoreson- I’m going to-“

“Hey, calm down.” Sanson presses his hands on Guydelot’s chest, staring up at him as he can feel the way the elezen’s breaths are harsh and uneven from anger.

“He made a pass at you didn’t he?”

The way Sanson stiffens gives himself away.

“I knew it!” Guydelot raises a fist to his mouth, inhaling sharply as he has to restrain himself from tearing through Castrum just to find Nourval and beat him into the ground.

“He’s just toying with us. He _wants_ to get a rise out of you. Don’t let him.”

For a moment Guydelot goes quiet, considering Sanson’s words in that time. He appears to be dissuaded for now, his hands moving to gently cover and grip on Sanson’s own as they’re still on his chest.

“If he does it again, I really will beat the shite out of him.”

Sanson can’t help but smile at how valiantly Guydelot is in wanting to defend him. No, he quite likes Guydelot’s intentions. With his heart on his sleeve only for Sanson to adore and safeguard in his own ways. As if to try and soothe Guydelot further, he presses in closer, pulling on Guydelot’s hands until their lips meet in a gentle kiss.

As innocent as the intentions are, they hardly stay that way for long. There’s still a fair amount of frustration within Guydelot, and it makes itself known with the way he kisses Sanson harder, using their intertwined hands as leverage to suddenly shift their positions. Before Sanson knows it, he’s the one pressed into the wall, arms pinned above his head with Guydelot’s lanky frame aligning against him.

He can feel how Guydelot breathes heavily against his lips, barely even pausing long enough to catch their breath before he’s licking along his lips and into his mouth, one hand still pinning Sanson’s hands against the wall as the other snakes down to run over his chest.

Long fingers pry apart his shirt, and soon nails are dragging against his skin to run across his nipples. Sanson seizes up, back arching from the wall, and he can’t help the way he’s already growing hard from Guydelot’s kiss alone. It’s only when Guydelot pulls his mouth away to instead focus on his neck that Sanson remembers they’re _outside_.

“Guydelot –we-shouldn’t be doing this _here_ -“ He hisses out between uneven breaths.

“I don’t care.” The bard mutters in-between nipping on Sanson’s neck, purposefully leaving marks. “Hopefully he’ll accidentally see too.”

Sanson shudders at that. He shouldn’t find that prospect so alluring.

With Guydelot mouthing more at his neck, Sanson is helpless in the way warm sensations start to cloud his mind, leaving him unforgivably hard and eager for the way Guydelot starts to grind against him.

That hand eventually ceases its teasing on his chest, instead moving further down to tug at the fastening of his pants. Sanson bites his lower lip, succumbing to his fate of being fucked outside by shifting his hips so that the elezen can push down his pants and his boots off. Seeing how Guydelot pulls out a small bottle of oil from his coat pocket shouldn’t be surprising, but they’ve been messing around enough the past few months that they certainly need it on hand fairly often. It still makes his cheeks darken all the same.

As Guydelot gradually slicks up his fingers, he hums in thought while watching the way Sanson hikes up a leg around his lover’s slim waist, aiding him in allowing those fingers to circle his hole and start to slowly prepare him. It’s a gradual process, one that Guydelot always seems to indulge in no matter how frustrated he might be. This time around he focuses on a more lascivious thought, murmuring against Sanson’s ear.

“My lovely Sanson…you’re going to have to walk around with my cum still inside of you after this…”

Again Sanson shivers from that, gripping on Guydelot’s back from the way those fingers rub and thrust at the perfect angle. Guydelot is so crude at times, but it’s impossible not to find that truth fucking _hot_.

“..you’re terrible…absolutely terrible…”

With his hips jerking forward from how he’s stretched open more, Sanson bites back a gasp, eyes closing tightly at the way Guydelot keeps teasing him, a favorite habit of his.

“You love it.”

As that hand thrusts in a steadier pace, the slick sounds grow louder, and Guydelot presses in so that Sanson can feel the prominent length hard beneath his coat. It rubs against his thigh, and Sanson whimpers at that.

“G-Guydelot…” With the elezen’s name said in a needy tone, Guydelot relents and starts to withdraw his fingers in favor of undoing his own trousers.

Sanson’s hands are trembling while he assists in unbuttoning and pushing apart Guydelot’s coat, watching as that cock is freed, knowing that the sheer size of it always proves to be so enticing. Any sort of remnants of sense have left him entirely, completely rendered to the point of desperation as he helps with rubbing oil over the length of that cock, lingering a soft touch on the tip. It’s evident the way Guydelot is at his wits end as well. He doesn’t waste time with anymore pleasantries, instead hoisting Sanson up against the wall, pinning him there with his hips while his hands carefully spread those ass cheeks apart.

“I’ll have to make sure that pretty mouth of yours is nice and bruised by tomorrow too but for now…”

Intimacy such as this is always exceedingly overwhelming, even more when Guydelot is hopeless in showing restraint. With his senses set aflame, Sanson digs his fingers into Guydelot’s hair, nails roaming over the back of his neck to dig harshly the moment their gradually joined together. The familiar pain etches into his body, causing him to gasp, only to have it eaten up by Guydelot capturing his lips in a reassuring kiss. They linger in that slow movement, the last of Guydelot’s sanity keeping him in check long enough for Sanson to speak against his lips.

“You know…I quite like this possessive streak of yours.”

There’s a flicker of amusement in icy blue eyes. A chuckle is almost lost in the way Guydelot reaffirms his grip on Sanson, starting to partake in a rhythm, one that draws harsher, strangled noises from Sanson again.

“I promise you it’s always present.” Guydelot mutters as they share breaths, fingers tightening to dig against that firm ass in his grasp. The reality of what they’re doing crashes down as the relentless, wet sounds echo louder and louder. Sanson gasps hard when that thick cock hits deeper, intense sensations leaving him to claw down Guydelot’s back, and unable to help how broken pleas start to pass his lips.

These are the times that Guydelot can’t even hide how Sanson’s breathy tone and willing body only turn him on even more. His cock twitches from the way that heat remains so slick, enveloping him in a sheer perfection that he never wants to feel with another. He’s breathing just as harshly, licking and biting over Sanson’s lips, that lust building up to where he can’t do anything but fuck in the way that always has Sanson coming long and hard.

“I’ll make sure he knows.” The recognition of his statement has Sanson shivering in delight. Guydelot growls into another kiss, one that becomes messy, head dizzying to the point of where Sanson is stroking over his cock that’s been teased relentlessly from the constant rubbing of their bodies against one another. It’s slick to the touch, and he’s completely beside himself as Guydelot thrusts with renewed intensity.

Sanson pushes a hand into that mess of dark locks, clinging onto his lover pitifully so as he’s strung closer to the edge each time he’s filled.

“You better. I want to _feel_ it.”

There’s certainly no arguing with that. Guydelot rests his forehead against Sanson’s own, starting intently at him, and savoring the look that he’ll only ever get to see. That intent to mark leaves them both indulging in such pleasure, until finally Guydelot can feel how his balls seize up. He holds Sanson tightly, cock driving in hard in those last moments of utter need, and it’s the moment that Sanson can’t contain his moans with cum spilling between them that Guydelot succumbs.

He avidly steals glances at the way his cock is stuffed deeply in that heat, groaning from how his cum starts to fill his lover to the point of it dripping out of that hole. Sanson continues to stroke himself through those waves of ecstasy, focused solely on Guydelot, and that sentiment to claim fulfilled.

Neither of them are quick to move, both seemingly caught up within that high. Sanson’s breath remain uneven for a good while, fingers coated with cum, yet he can only truly focus on how Guydelot has overtaken his very being once more.

“You certainly keep your word. Of course, I’ve always liked that about you.”

Guydelot is thoroughly amused by the compliment. It causes him to hum softly, while they gradually start to disentangle themselves from one another. While he manages to recompose himself by fixing his pants and jacket, his eyes roam to see the mess that he caused. He finds the sight of Sanson with cum streaking down his thighs terribly beautiful all the same.

“Mmm I’m quite fond of you as well.” The bard says in a playful tone, the demons in his head subsiding long enough to partake in their peaceful aftermath. That didn’t completely negate the remembrance of earlier, and he’s certain to deliver a faint reminder by kneeling down and helping Sanson dress himself. “Also quite fond of the idea of destroying anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way ever again.”

Blue eyes peer up while he kneels before Sanson as if to display his devotion in his stance alone. It’s endearing and alluring all at once. Sanson smiles, feels the warmth in his chest is all too real, and cups Guydelot’s face with his hands before leaning down to kiss him in a slow, meaningful way.

“Ever eager are you? I won’t stop you then.”

It’s not as if Sanson ever could before, so why would he dare to now?


End file.
